Romancing Disaster
by DelicateKTheory
Summary: Chris and Rosalind are going to finally consummate their six-month relationship...so they think. A series of unfortunate events threaten to ruin their romantic evening. The sequel to Rosalind De Counte & The Lion Tamer.
1. Spanking the Monkey

**Disclaimer: I do not own Chris Jericho or anything else pretaining to World Wrestling Entertainment. I am just a fan; and I am not profiting from writing this piece.**

* * *

With his rolling suitcase in one hand and his duffle bag in the other, Chris trudged wearily up his front steps. It had been a long two weeks of travel. Typically, Chris was enthusiastic about World Wrestling Entertainment's annual trips to foreign countries. Spending a few days soaking in the beautiful countryside of Spain, then Italy, and finally France, that was more like taking a vacation than doing one's job. However, it was a vacation that ultimately left him with jetlag and aching joints. He couldn't wait to get a solid five hours sleep in his own bed before he went to pick up Rosalind after her shift at Alzonzo's.

Tonight marked Chris and Rosalind's six-month anniversary; therefore, Chris was going to take advantage of the fact that he was not working on this special occasion. It had been almost five years since he had been able to celebrate an anniversary of any kind.

Chris let out a thankful sigh as he set his luggage on the porch and fumbled around inside the pocket of his jeans for his house keys. He was going to drop his luggage by the stairs, call Rosalind to let her know that he had made it home safely, and then run upstairs to shower and go to sleep.

He had just set down his bags and was about to pull out his cell phone when he noticed the red rose petals that were trailing up the stairs.

"Someone has been reading one too many romance novels," Chris chuckled, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He smiled at Rosalind's cliché romantic notion and decided to play along. Following the trail of rose petals, he was led down the upstairs hallway, to his master bedroom.

The door was slightly ajar; and a light was illuminating the hallway.

"Knock, knock," Chris said as he lightly on the door.

"Come in," was Rosalind's soft response.

Chris all but melted as the sound of her beautiful voice nestling inside his ear canals. His grin widened and he pushed the door open further.

"Well, this is a pleasant—"

Chris was stunned into silence.

Rosalind was lying on his bed, in leftover rose petals, wearing a black, sheer negligee with a lace bodice and a matching g-string. Chris's piercing blue eyes were fixated on her and scanning her petite frame in amazement.

His brain was scrambling to produce some kind of verbal response, but the only thing he could say was, "Oofa."

Rosalind blushed, looking away from him as she spoke. "I took a sick day so that I could surprise you. I know that you were planning on dinner at the beach, but I thought…I thought we could _do_ something a little more…special—i-if you want to. If you don't, that's fine, too."

Chris stood there a moment.

"Is this what you want?" he asked.

Rosalind bit her lip nervously and nodded.

Chris gave her a tense smile.

"All right, then," he said, strolling over to the bed. "First, let me go wash this flight off me. I'll be right out."

She nodded. Her face was flushed as she looked up at him.

He placed a series of gentle pecks across her lips and then one long, lingering kiss to her forehead.

"Take your time."

Chris grabbed some underwear from his dresser drawers and darted into the bathroom.

This was it; the moment of truth—the consummation of their relationship, and Chris was actually scared as hell. He and Rosalind were about to skip the I-think-I'm-in-love-with-you level of their relationship and go straight to intimacy. How the hell did that happen?

Chris's heart was slamming violently against his ribcage as he turned on the shower. He sat on the toilet for a moment and tried to get himself together. So overcome by his panic, he stupidly decided to call Jay.

"Listen, Jay," Chris hissed, not even waiting for Jay to properly greet him, "I don't want any of your whimsical little quips, okay?"

"O…Kay," Jay replied slowly, sounding slightly confused. "What's going on, man?"

Chris took a deep breath.

"Well, there's a gorgeous brunette woman, wearing provocative lingerie, lying on my bed."

"Then, what the hell are you doing talking to me?" Jay shrieked, excited for his best friend. "You get in there and spank the monkey, bro!"

"Gee, those are wonderful words of encouragement," Chris groaned. "I'm not entirely sure that I'm ready for this. I haven't been intimate with a woman in three years, so I'm going to need a little more than your horny pubescence at the moment."

"Okay, okay," Jay laughed. "Look, man, sex is like riding a bike. You might not ride a bike for years; but when the time comes, you always remember how to. So you have nothing to worry about—unless you sucked in the sack before. You didn't suck before, did you?"

"Elise never complained," Chris answered, somewhat incoherent.

"See, so you have nothing to worry about."

Chris sighed, strangely comforted by Jay...for once.

"So…about this 'provocative lingerie…'"

Chris rolled his eyes. "Goodbye, Jay."

"Wait, wait! You can't tell me that there's a half-naked woman in your room and then leave me hanging. What kind of best friend are you? I need details!"

Chris chuckled as he hung up and switched his phone to vibrate.


	2. The Shrine at the Quick and Zip

**Disclaimer: I do not own Chris Jericho or anything else pretaining to World Wrestling Entertainment. I am just a fan; and I am not profiting from writing this piece.**

* * *

Rosalind was anxiously chewing on her lower lip as she changed her position on Chris's bed several times before finally settling down...sort of. She was facing the closed bathroom door...waiting. With each passing second, she was beginning to lose the confidence she had conjured up this afternoon whenever she was planning this evening. Chris was taking a long time in the bathroom; Rosalind could have sworn she heard him talking to himself earlier. What if this was a bad idea? What if he was having second thoughts? Hell, what if he was only doing this to make her happy?

Rosalind only knew one thing for certain. She knew without a shadow of doubt that she loved Chris. It had taken fourteen days, six hours, and twenty minutes for her to realize just how much. It was true—absence did make the heart grow fonder.

After Parker, Rosalind had vowed to never place herself within the vicious grasps of love again, but with Chris, the falling happened so quickly that she hadn't realized it. Over the past month, she had made multiple attempts to make her feelings for him apparent, but each time something held her back. Perhaps it was the fear of having her heart broken again, or the idea that she shouldn't be the one making the first move. Nonetheless, if Chris didn't know how she felt about him before, he certainly did now.

Rosalind's head perked up at the sound of the water being shut off. A few minutes later, Chris appeared in the doorway. He was only wearing a black pair of brief; and his wet blonde hair was combed and slicked back.

Rosalind couldn't help gawking. In a few short minutes, that Greek God was going to be hers.

"So…" Chris smirked a little bit.

"So…" Rosalind bushed.

"Mood music?" he asked, raising a brow.

"If you think we'll need it," Rosalind giggled.

"Well…" Chris waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "A little music may make my neighbors more comfortable."

Rosalind gulped. "Then by all means, give us some music, maestro."

Chris strolled over to his dresser, which had his small stereo on top of it. With his back to her, he flipped through the radio stations. He wasn't one for the oldies station, but Heavy Metal was obviously inappropriate.

Both Chris and Rosalind laughed in unison, as the soulful sounds of Marvin Gaye filled the room.

"_Let's get it on_," Chris chuckled. "How appropriate and slightly ironic is that?"

"I'll say," Rosalind giggled.

Chris strutted back to the bed, singing along with the song, _"I've been really trying, baby_…"

The rock 'n' roll edge to Chris's vocals was arousing, extremely arousing.

Chris had barely sat down on the bed when Rosalind pounced on him like lion in the Sahara desert. He yelped in surprise as she threw him back against the bed and sent rose petals flying into the air.

"Well, well, look who has an inner-vixen," Chris chuckled. "Had I known that this would be a violent affair, I would have thrown on my wrestling gear."

Rosalind giggled as she straddled him. "Chris?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Shut up."

With that, Rosalind leaned down and planted a sultry, borderline sinful, kiss across his lips.

Chris moaned in response, reaching up and burying his fingers into her hair. He deepened the kiss even more and flipped Rosalind onto her back. He shivered as he felt her fingers slowly slide down his bare back. Any doubts about this moment quickly vanished.

Rosalind broke the kiss.

"Chris?" she panted.

Chris gazed down at her, brushing a few stray rose petals off her face with his thumb.

"You may want to consider that protection theory."

Chris laughed. "Do you really think you're going to be _that _beside yourself with passion that wrestling gear is necessary?"

"No, you doof," she laughed. "I'm talking about protection of another sort."

"Oh, condoms," Chris chuckled.

"Yes, well, aluminum would hurt."

Chris nodded, laughing, "That it would."

"Do you?" she repeated. "I haven't in…So I didn't think to…"

He gave her an understanding nodded.

"Uh, yeah," Chris slowly rose from the bed. "I should…Hold that thought. I'll be right back."

He rushed into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

"Condoms, condoms, condoms…Where for art thou, condoms?" Chris was muttering to himself as he frantically rifled through his medicine cabinet. He couldn't remember the last time he had bought protection, but he was bound to have some, right? He had to have some.

Chris threw old boxes of his ex-wife's tampons and other feminine products into the wastebasket by the handfuls. On the last shelf, pushed to the very back, was a lowly box of unopened condoms. They looked to be sitting under three inches of dust. This did not look promising.

Chris begrudgingly grabbed the box and read the expiration date.

"Of course," he grumbled, sighing.

They had expired four years ago.

Chris chucked the useless box into the garbage with everything else.

"Now what?" he asked aloud as he flopped down on the toilet.

Chris came darting out of the bathroom as if the house had caught on fire. He had a panicked, wild expression across his face.

Rosalind sat up in bed. "Are you all right, Chris?"

"I just remembered...I left some very important documents for work in Jay's car. I really need to go get them."

Rosalind's brow scrunched. "You need to get them now, right this second?"

"Yes," Chris nodded, giving her an apologetic look, "if I don't go get them now, I'll forget about them later."

"Oh," Rosalind's face fell.

Chris could tell that she thought he was stalling, putting off the big moment.

"Sweetheart," he sighed as he walked over and turned off the music. "I'll be back in a few minutes and then we can finish this. I promise."

Rosalind looked at him a moment and then nodded.

"Hurry back."

"I will," Chris grinned, blowing her a kiss, and darting out the door…in his underwear.

"Uh, Chris?" Rosalind called, laughing.

Chris poked his head back into the room, completely oblivious.

"You might want to put on some clothes."

Chris looked down at himself and then blushed.

"Good idea."

He quickly ran into the bathroom and threw on his jeans and T-shirt. He slipped on his tennis shoes and bolted out the door again. Rosalind could hear him running, as fast as his legs could carry him, down the stairs.

Chris was cautiously checking his review mirrors as he sped down the road. He was going sixty-five in a forty-five mile-an-hour stretch. With the rate things were going, he was going to get pulled over. He started rehearsing the potential event aloud, as he headed in the direction of the Quick & Zip—the closest gas station/convenient store.

"So, Mr. Jericho, why do you think I pulled you over?"

"I'm endangering the lives of all the invisible motorists traveling down this particular road, because of my desperate desire to buy condoms. Look, officer, there's a ninety-five percent chance that my girlfriend will become disconcerted and start without me; so can I just give you my autograph and be on my merry way?"

Chris laughed darkly at the thought.

The tires of his Camaro squealed as he pulled into a parking-spot in front of the Quick & Zip. He unbuckled his seatbelt and reached into the backseat to get his sunglasses and baseball cap. The last thing he wanted was some random fan documenting this shining moment.

Chris casually strolled into the convenient store. He threw a quick nod to the guy that was standing behind the counter and then darted to the back of the store. Once he got to his destination. He grimaced. From the ceiling to almost the floor, in several rows and columns, were multiple brands prophylactics. Who would have thought that the Quick & Zip, of all the whole-in-the-wall places, contained a giant prophylactic shrine?

Chris stood, with his hands in his pockets, pondering. Because he was so analytic in nature, he was going to be standing there in debate for quite a while. The condom brands that contained the least amount idiocracy in their slogans showed potential. It wasn't that Chris didn't want to "double her pleasure." He just didn't want to think about spearmint gum while doing so.

Chris was about to reach for a box.

"Jericho?"

Chris turned begrudgingly to his left to see who had spoken to him, even though he could recognize that smug voice from anywhere.

This was nightmare. Maybe, in reality, he had just taken a horrible blow to the head during his match; and he was going to come to any second.

"Parker," Chris forced a smile. "Fancy meeting you here…in the condom section…at the Quick & Zip."

Parker gave him a tense nod.

"Just getting ready for the honeymoon," He felt the need to explain in that irritating, condescending tone. "Quinn and I just got married."

"You don't say," Chris smirked. "I had no idea that marriages came with honeymoons this day and age. Thank you for enlightening me."

Parker said nothing in response.

Chris could tell that the tiny gears in Parker's pea-sized brain were working overtime in an effort to help him put the pieces of this simple puzzle together.

"So…How are things with you and Lin?"

Chris cocked his brow and looked at the puny little cretin next to him.

"Do you honestly expect me to dignify that with an answer? My presence here should suffice, wouldn't you agree? Besides, on what astronomical planet did you and I become friends?"

Parker glared at Chris, as if that would intimidate him.

"I was just making conversation," he said. "Do you always have to be a pompous ass?"

"Where, oh, where is a mirror when I need one?" Chris laughed. He didn't bother paying attention to the box of condom he selected. He gave Parker a firm, rough slap on the back. "Why don't you just do yourself a favor, junior? Quit worrying about Rosalind. Like I said during our last little encounter, she's being well-taken care of. So you just scurry off to your honeymoon with your wife. I sincerely hope you guys catch a case of Malaria…Pardon me, I meant to say, I hope the two of you have a wonderful trip. Isn't it comical how Malaria and wonderful sound the same?"

Parker wasn't witty enough for descent comeback by this point; and Chris wasn't about to play another game of Is That So? He just grinned at Parker and whistled jovially as he turned around.

"Hey, Chris?"

Chris turned around.

"Man-to-man, on a scale of one to ten, Rosalind peaks at a four…if you know what I mean."

Parker was now mimicking Chris's confident smirk.

Helaughed and shook his head.

"Man-to-man," he said, looking over the rim of his sunglasses, "maybe she was a four, because someone wasn't doing it right...if you know what I mean." He gestured to the brand of condoms with the "double her pleasure" slogan. "Maybe you should give the spearmint ones a try."


	3. Seat Covers & Raincoats

**Disclaimer: I do not own Chris Jericho or anything else pretaining to World Wrestling Entertainment. I am just a fan; and I am not profiting from writing this piece.**

* * *

Rosalind sat at the bar in Chris's kitchen, dressed in a lace robe that matched her outfit, waiting anxiously for Chris to return. She sighed, tracing the rim of her drinking glass with her index finger. Chris lived three doors down from Jay, so how long did it take to get something out of the man's vehicle? She understood that this was just as nerve-racking for him as it was for her. She was willing to bet that Chris was just sitting in one of his vehicles, in the driveway, having a nervous breakdown.

"The poor guy," she thought aloud.

Regardless of whether they took the next step or not, Rosalind knew that it would happen sooner or later, so she would wait. If Chris wanted more time to prepare himself, so be it.

Chris eased the Camaro into his driveway. He was trying to be as quite as possible. Having Rosalind know that he had to take a little trip to the convenient store would only add to the mounting embarrassment. He quickly ripped open the box of condoms, took a handful of them, and shoved them into the pocket of his jeans. He tossed the box, along with his hat and glasses, into the backseat. He took a few seconds to pull himself together and then got out of the car.

"I'm in here, Chris," Rosalind called when she heard the front door open.

Chris strolled into the kitchen.

"Sorry." He gave her that knee-weakening smile. "Jay's wife really likes to talk."

Rosalind just forced a smile and took a sip of her soda.

Chris scrunched his brow and moved closer to her.

"Is everything all right?" he asked, concerned.

"Is everything all right with you?" she countered. She melted into his chest as he came up behind her and wrapped his muscular arms around her neck.

"I'm fabulous," Chris replied, kissing the top of her head. He was careful not to close his eyes. He needed to avoid the idea of sleeping.

"Are you sure?" Rosalind looked up at him, skeptical.

"I'm absolutely, one-hundred percent positive."

She stared at him a moment.

"Is this too soon for you?" she finally asked.

"Why? Do you think it's too soon?"

"I-I don't know." Rosalind looked down at the counter. "I'm leaving that for you to decide. I never intended to make you uncomfortable. If am, like I said before, we can wait."

Chris smiled. Next time he ran into Parker, he needed to make a note to thank the man.

"Come here," he said. He held out his arms.

Rosalind complied.

Chris wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his warm embrace.

Rosalind squealed in surprise as Chris lifted her into his arms.

He grinned. "I never start something unless I intend to finish it."

Rosalind sighed as she lay back in bed. Chris had cocooned himself the bathroom again. After she heard his umpteenth grunt of frustration, she was debating on whether or not she needed to go check on him.

A loud snap, similar to the sound a rubber band makes after being stretched to its limits, echoed throughout the room. It was followed by Chris uttering, "Son of a bitch."

Rosalind giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. She rose from the bed, tiptoed to the bathroom door, and knocked.

"Chris? Chris, do you need my…help?"

She heard some scuffling from inside; and then Chris poked his head out.

"No," he replied as he rubbed the red mark in the center of his forehead. "I'll be out shortly. I promise."

Chris gave her a soft smile and closed the door.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Chris muttered as he started pacing back and forth. He quickly reached for his phone and dialed Jay's number again.

"Jay," Chris all but shrieked as his best friend picked up. "I have a problem of gargantuan proportions. I need your help."

"Okay, okay, calm down," Jay instructed. "All you have to do is think about Pamela Anderson…No, wait, Carmen Electra. Carmen is more your type…Okay, so just think of her. That always works for me."

Chris ceased pacing and raised a brow. "That's a little bit more information than I care to know, but that's not my problem."

"Oh, then what is it?"

Chris hesitated for a moment.

"Well…my seat cover doesn't quite fit my bike."

"What?" Jay laughed, confused.

Chris sighed and started frantically pacing again.

"That was in reference to your bike analogy. Think about it."

Jay was silent a moment.

"Oh," he laughed. "You've outgrown your raincoat, huh?"

"Yes, yes," Chris spat, rolling his eyes, "Enough with the euphemisms."

"Well, that's not a problem," Jay chuckled. "All you have to do is make an excuse and pop to the nearest convenient store."

"I've already done that," Chris reluctantly admitted.

"What?" Jay was laughing hard. "You mean you've already had to go out, and you bought the wrong size? My God, I'd hate to be you right now, man. That's priceless!"

"I was a bit distracted by Rosalind's ex at the time," Chris started to explain. "…Why am I even bothering to tell you any of this? Just tell me you have condoms."

"Okay…I have condoms."

Chris sighed, rolling his eyes.

"I meant literally. Don't say you do just to humor me."

"And I'm being literal, bro. I have condoms. Two whole boxes that have yet to see the light of day, but I'm still hoping."

"Keep that optimistic outlook," Chris half-heartedly encouraged. "Now, do you think you can help me out here?"

Jay was silent for several minutes, more than likely relishing in his buddy's humiliation.

"Sure," he finally replied. "Stall for a little bit more, and I'll be there in a few."

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

Jay mumbled something intelligible and hung up.

Chris sighed.

What other excuses could he possibly make?

Chris emerged from the bathroom, strutting toward the bed with that graceful, confident swagger. Rosalind blushed as his stare seemed to penetrate through her clothing—not that there was much left for the imagination to begin with.

"Ready to give it another try?" she asked, looking down at the floor.

Chris had three options: stand there and awkwardly stare at her, stand at the stereo for the length of time it took Jay to get there, or say something that would strike up a descent conversation.

"August 18, 2007."

Rosalind gave him a befuddled look and laughed. "What?"

Chris smiled and slowly sat down on the edge of the bed. He grabbed her by the hand and pulled her close.

"That was the first day you smiled at me and called me by my name."

Rosalind blushed and intertwined her fingers with his.

"You actually have that down to the date?"

"Yes, well, you remember the smallest of details whenever you're…" He trailed off, giving her a boyish smirk.

Rosalind's face was as red as the rose petals on the bed.

"May 7, 2009," she muttered as she looked into his eyes.

"Our first kiss," Chris laughed at the thought, outlining her lips with his thumb.


	4. How Very Pink Ladies

**Disclaimer: I do not own Chris Jericho or anything else pretaining to World Wrestling Entertainment. I am just a fan; and I am not profiting from writing this piece.**

* * *

Two Consenting Adults: Check.

A Year Supply of Condoms Courtesy of a Narcissistic Best Friend: Check.

A Lip Bleeding Rather Profusely: Unfortunately.

Rosalind's back was pressed against the headboard and her knees were to her chest. She was staring at Chris in horror. He was sitting at the end of the bed, holding a blood-spotted tissue to his lower lip.

"I'm so sorry," Rosalind uttered for the hundredth time.

Chris looked over at her and smiled behind his tissue.

"It's no big deal," he said.

Rosalind shook her head in disagreement.

"I almost tore your lip off. That is a big deal."

"You lost your balance," Chris chuckled as he pulled the tissue away from his mouth. "You instinctively bit down. Had I been the one to almost somersault backwards off the bed, I probably would have had the same reaction."

Rosalind looked down at a spot on the bed. "I feel terrible, though."

Chris reached out to touch her, but she flinched. She was too afraid to touch him. He respectfully retreated and turned so that he could face her better.

"Baby doll, I'm a professional wrestler. I've had injuries much worse than this one."

Rosalind gave a heavy sigh.

"How are you going to explain that one whenever you go back to work?"

Chris thought a moment.

"That's easy…I was rough-housing with my boy and he inadvertently popped me one…See, so everything is perfectly fine."

Rosalind didn't say anything for a moment; and then she sighed again.

"Maybe we should do this another time. Just break out the Dora cookies and wine, because I'm scared I'll put you in the hospital, if we keep trying to make this work."

Chris exhaled slowly, dabbing at his lip again.

"I think you're coming down on yourself a little too hard…Let's give it a try one more time. If another disastrous event occurs, I'll tell you what…I'll pack you a bag, and we'll take our little act on the road." He paused, smirking, "Nothing like a little midnight-delight after a hard day's work."

Rosalind giggled, which is what Chris was hoping for.

"Still, I think we should hold off. Next time, I'll let you do the planning."

Chris nodded understandingly. "I'll have some new wrestling gear by Christmas."

"Christmas it is," Rosalind agreed with a laugh.

Chris glanced at the digital clock on his nightstand. It was a little after seven. They had been trying to make love for two hours!

The realization must have been written on his face.

"Do you see why I said we should try again later?"

Chris laughed and nodded.

"Well…Since the whole day is shot to hell, how about we go with that Plan B of yours?"

"What, cookies and wine?"

Chris nodded with a smile, which painfully stretched the small gash in his lower lip. He grimaced slightly.

"I'm sorry," Rosalind frowned.

Chris gave her a dismissive gesture.

"I'm going to go wash up. I'll see you downstairs."

As he got up, he bent down and picked up Rosalind's robe. He handed it to her and said, "Here you go, sweetheart."

Rosalind smiled lovingly at him.

"You're amazing, you know that?"

Chris grinned, squatted, and then lifted up her chin with his index finger.

"I'm not nearly as amazing as my better half…I don't even mind her cannibalistic tendencies."

After ensuring that his lip had stopped its bleeding, Chris threw on a plaid pair of pajama bottoms and bounded down the stairs. Rosalind was nowhere in sight. He checked the kitchen, living room, and then looked out the front door.

"Rosalind?" He called pointlessly as he wandered back into the living room.

Just then he caught a glimpse of someone walking up the short hill in his backyard that dipped down to the lake. He crossed the room, to the sliding door, and gazed outside.

Rosalind had parked her car by the lake. She must have changed at some point, because her sexy clothes were replaced by a tank top and pajama bottoms that had Tweety Bird on them. She had a large duffle bag over her left shoulder.

Chris couldn't help feeling guilty. Rosalind had gone through so much to make this night so special. Next time, he would use every romantic trick in his arsenal: candles, roses, music, chocolate-covered strawberries. He would utilize all of those cliché romantic notions that Rosalind seemed to love so much.

When Rosalind was approaching the back porch, Chris opened the sliding door and stepped aside to let her in.

"I'd packed an overnight bag," she said, gesturing to the one on her shoulder. "I'm assuming I can still stay the night?"

Chris looked at her, expressionless.

"No. Get out."

Rosalind blinked in surprise. She eyed him a moment, trying read him. Was he joking or being serious? She couldn't tell.

"I'm kidding," Chris chuckled. "Of course you can stay the night, as long as you don't mind a six-year-old and two three-year-olds trying to pry your eyelids open at about seven tomorrow morning."

Rosalind giggled, giving his face a gentle tap.

"I guess I'll just have to be up before then."

Chris extended an arm. "Shall we?"

The pair strolled arm-and-arm into the kitchen.

"I've been meaning to ask," Rosalind began, setting her duffle bag on the kitchen table and then taking a seat at the bar, "how are your kids adjusting to—to me?"

Chris was on the opposite side of the bar rifling through the refrigerator. He stopped momentarily and glanced over his shoulder.

He smiled.

"As long as you keep playing with Barbie and video games, I think you're golden. Ash may even have a little crush on you, but you didn't hear that from me."

"Well, I'll take that as a good sign," Rosalind breathed a sigh of relief.

"You worry too much," Chris chuckled, turning back around and then sighed in dismay. "As luck would have, there's wine, but I'm afraid there's not a pack of Dora cookies in sight."

"Of course," Rosalind laughed.

"Oh well," Chris shrugged, grabbed the unopened bottle of wine, and shut the refrigerator door. "I guess we'll have to improvise the improvised."

After retrieving two wine glasses from the top cabinet, Chris stood there for a moment. Lost in thought, he started licking his wounded lip. Rosalind started biting hers to keep from giggling like a little school girl. He looked so adorable.

Having reached a conclusion of some sort, Chris scampered to one of cabinets and pulled out an unopened box of Twinkies. He spun around and revealed the box.

"Twinkies and wine," Rosalind laughed, "How very Pink Ladies."

Chris chuckled, slid the box across the counter, and then came around to join her. He popped the cork on the wine and poured them both a glass.

"I had better not be Olivia Newton-John then…I refuse to belt out emotionally-charged love ballads to John Travolta. I have dibs on Frenchie. We have similar personality traits."

"Fine," Rosalind playfully rolled her eyes. "I'll be Olivia."

Chris laughed again and scooted his chair closer to hers.

"To us," he said, raising his glass. "Happy anniversary, may our next one be as adventurous."


	5. Twinkies, Wine, & The Kitchen Table

**Disclaimer: I do not own Chris Jericho or anything else pretaining to World Wrestling Entertainment. I am just a fan; and I am not profiting from writing this piece.**

* * *

The rest of the evening was comprised of drinking and casual conversation. Rosalind asked about work and how Chris's band's new album was coming along. In turn, he asked how her painting was coming and so on. The chatter went back and forth, but after a while, things fell into a peaceful silence.

"So," Chris began after a moment or two. He watched Rosalind unwrap a fourth Twinkie. "I know that this wasn't exactly what you had in mind, but have you had fun?"

"Honestly?" Rosalind squeaked, taking a small bit of her Twinkie and then a sip of wine.

"No, all relationships are built on the foundation of lies, Rosalind," Chris replied sarcastically, "so I would very much appreciate it if you lied to me. Make an effort to save our flawless romance, why don't you?"

Rosalind giggled a little bit.

"It's been fun, but it could be better."

"Oh?" Chris scrunched his brow. "What can I do to make it better?"

She didn't answer. She just stared down at her Twinkie.

"Rosalind, what can I do to make it better?" he repeated.

"Well…" She turned to him, and without warning, her left-over Twinkie was smashed into his face.

Chris jumped, startled. With the help of some cream filling, chunks of the yellow sponge cake clung to the tip of his nose and to his upper lip.

"The only way to end an otherwise disastrous evening is to have a food fight."

"I see," he said softly, picking off some of the Twinkie.

Rosalind frowned. She seemed to have upset him.

As he licked his upper lip, Chris kept his head down. He tried to get the rest of the Twinkie off with the back of his hand. He said nothing as he reached for the box of cakes. It looked like he was going to close it.

_Great, way to ruin the evening_, Rosalind thought to herself. She opened her mouth to apologize, but it was quickly filled with half of a freshly opened Twinkie; the other half ended up on her face.

"If you're going to instigate a food fight, it should be done properly," Chris said with a smirk, "Half in the mouth, and half on the face."

He was licking his fingers with gratification.

Rosalind chewed on the partial Twinkie in between laughs and then reached for the box. Chris was quick to grab onto it as well. He started wrestling her for it.

"No fair," Rosalind was whining as she tried tugged on the cardboard box. "We can't have a food fight, if you're hogging all the ammo."

Chris, of course, overpowered her.

"Awww, poor baby…" He was playfully pouting as he held the now battered box above his head. He was watching in amusement as Rosalind lunged for it. "You look like a cute little bunny. That's it. Hop, my little bunny, hop."

"Chris!"

"Rosalind," he smirked, reaching for his wine glass with one hand. "Would you like some more wine to go with that…whine?"

Chris was tipping the glass suggestively above her head.

"Oh, you wouldn't dare!" she gasped, but a smile was dancing on her lips as she sank back into her seat.

Chris gave her a crooked smile and tipped the glass so that a few drops of wine hit the top of her head.

"Why yes, I believe I would."

"That is it!" Rosalind shrieked indignantly and reached for the entire bottle of wine. "You want to play hardball, Chris Jericho, we'll play hardball!"

"Baby, baby," Chris quickly retreated, holding the Twinkie box out if front of him as an offering. "That's a really expensive bottle. You wouldn't want to waste it by dumping it on my head, would you?"

"You were about to dump it on mine." Rosalind pointed out.

The tables were turned. She was now standing, with the bottle of wine tilted, ready to pour the entire contents of it onto Chris's head.

"It was just a glass, not the whole kit-and-kapoodle."

"Well," Rosalind gave him cute little smirk, "you should have thought about that before."

"Don't make me take you down," Chris threatened with a slight grin.

"I'd love to see you try."

At that, Chris lunged swiftly and unexpectedly forward, which caused Rosalind to cry out. He towered above her. His hand clasped around the wine bottle and his jaw was clenched in that brooding fashion—the one that made her knees weak. He took the bottle from her hand; and in the same motion, he set the bottle on the bar and spun Rosalind around. She squealed as he pinned one arm behind her back.

Chris's breath was hot on the back of Rosalind's neck and it sent a series of chills down her spine. She froze as he wrapped an arm around her chest.

"You were saying?"

"You didn't take me down," she murmured, almost at a whisper. "All you're doing is making me hot and bothered."

Rosalind could feel the vibration of Chris's chest as he emitted a low chuckle.

"Do you mind?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"No, not at all," Chris replied.

"I-I meant let me go," Rosalind stammered, laughing nervously. "You're probably getting Twinkie all over me."

"And I'll have no qualms about getting it off."

Chris surprised himself with that remark. Jay would have been proud.

Rosalind lost control of her steady breathing.

Chris knew each move hereafter would lead to sex; it was unavoidable, and he couldn't bring himself to stop. The arm that had been wrapped around her chest crept up her collar bone, to her neck. Chris cupped Rosalind's face in his hand and turned it so that he would have access to her mouth. He passionately kissed her, while licking off the remains of their Twinkie war at the same time.

"Yummy," he muttered against her lips.

"Uh-huh." She nodded incoherently; her eyes were still closed.

Ignoring the pain from his lower lip, Chris planted a rougher, more lust-filled kiss across her lips. He hesitated, afraid that he may have made Rosalind uncomfortable. When she didn't pull away, he took that as a sign that he could continue.

Rosalind's knees buckled; and she fell against Chris. He let her arm go and spun her back around…without breaking the kiss.

Rosalind was so close to him that he could feel the rapid beating of her heart, but yet, he wanted her closer. Lightly tugging at the strands of hair wrapped around his fingers, he pulled her into his body even more.

That's when he felt it; he felt her resisting. He stopped and let her go.

"Hot…Hot…" Rosalind stammered as she stumbled back a few steps, "Too hot."

Chris was staring at her, his chest heaving.

"We can't do this. I may hurt you again and you're not…prepared."

"It's all right." Chris nodded in understanding.

Rosalind looked down at the floor.

Chris's heart sank; he could tell that this was torturing her.

"To hell with it," he muttered after a moment. He took a few brisk steps forward and wrapped his arms around Rosalind waist. "I make a living pressing my luck."

Chris passionately crushed his lips to hers. He waited for her to kiss him back. When she finally did, the fire was ignited. The burn was far too great of a force for them not to relinquish to its charms. They surrendered to it…repeatedly…across the kitchen table.


	6. Fornication Station

**Disclaimer: I do not own Chris Jericho or anything else pretaining to World Wrestling Entertainment. I am just a fan; and I am not profiting from writing this piece.**

* * *

It was five-forty in the morning. Chris was spent, lingering in between a state of consciousness and sleep. So what if he had been awake for twenty-four hours? How could he sleep when all he could think about was the beautiful woman he had made love to all night? Chris looked down, pulling the covers up, over Rosalind's bare shoulder. She grinned, kissed his chest, and snuggled into his warm embrace. Suddenly, he burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

"What is it?" Rosalind chuckled, gazing up at him.

"I knew you weren't a four. You're far from a four."

She gave him a confused and laughed. "What?"

"How do you do that thing with your leg?" he continued. "You'd make an incredible WWE Diva with that kind of flexibility."

Rosalind blushed and laughed again. "Are you, all right?"

"I'm delirious from lack of sleep, but I couldn't be better, how about you?"

Rosalind playfully walked two fingers between the valley of Chris's pectoral muscles.

"Anytime I'm with you," she replied, "I have no complaints."

Chris smiled, kissing the top of her head.

A brief pause followed.

"So… now what?" Rosalind asked as she looked lovingly up at him.

"Well…" Chris took a deep breath. "We could get some sleep before the kids get here or…" He trailed off, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Rosalind looked at him in disbelief. "Again?"

"We have a lot of lost time to make up for."

Rosalind eyed him.

"Just exactly how much energy do you have?"

Chris smirked, "Enough for round four."

"Is that right?" Rosalind giggled.

"Yes, ma'am," Chris replied using a southern accent. "As long as I have a fifteen minute break in between, I can go a long…long…_long_…time."

Rosalind bit her lip. "I kind of like the sound of that."

"Do you now?" Chris grinned.

In one fluid motion, he rolled Rosalind onto her back and wrapped her legs around his waist. He affectionately ran a hand up her hip, to her side, and then to her neck. Cupping the base of her neck, Chris gingerly pressed his lips to hers.

After a long, passionate kiss, his lips traveled down the front over her neck, to her collar bone, and then back to crook of her neck. Rosalind moaned as she felt his tongue graze her flesh; and just as he was about to make his move…

There was a loud calamity (it sounded like a mountain of pots and pans crashing to the floor) coming from downstairs.

Chris's head jerked up.

"What the hell was that?"

"Maybe the kids are early?"

"No, Elise always calls ahead of time."

The two stared at one another for a moment.

The noise seemed to escalate.

"Jay." They groaned in unison.

Jay was making a half-hearted attempt to clean up the Twinkie and wine explosion in Chris's kitchen. However, once he was able to sort through the dishware and find the frying pan he was looking for, he dropped everything else where it laid.

"Hey, Jay," Chris greeted, a questioning air to his tone as he strolled into the kitchen. Rosalind was following behind him.

Jay was bustling from the refrigerator to the stove in an effort to prepare breakfast. He stopped momentarily to look over at his shirtless best friend and the stunning brunette that was standing next to him.

"Well, if it isn't the lovebirds," he said with that benevolent smirk. He gave Rosalind a quick once-over. She was in one of Chris's Rock 'n' Roll t-shirts and a pair of his workout pants. "The Jericho-look suits you, Mrs. Brady."

Rosalind blushed; and Chris rolled his eyes.

"Uh, Jay, would you mind telling me how you've managed to find yourself in my house...again?"

"Spare key in the potted-plant out front," Jay replied nonchalantly as he scrambled some eggs in the frying pan, "which reminds me; you should really pick a less conspicuous hiding place. Some random fruit-bag could just walk right in off the streets."

"Yes, and it looks like he's making breakfast."

Jay snarled, but laughed and gestured for him and Rosalind to have a seat at the bar.

"As an anniversary gift, I thought I would pop in and make breakfast in bed for you two nauseating kids."

Chris looked at him skeptically as he sat down next to Rosalind.

"The wife's parents are over for breakfast, huh?"

"Yep...and you know how much Yevette hates me…I inadvertently set Sugarplum's tail on fire and suddenly I'm the devil incarnate."

"Sugarplum's tail…What flaming feline were you watching dart across the kitchen table? Sugarplum was practically barbequed alive, Jay."

"Well, at least twenty-percent of her fur has started to grow back."

"And it only been six years," Chris added sarcastically.

"You've never left him alone with your children, have you?" Rosalind whispered to him.

Chris chuckled and kissed the side of her head.

"After last fourth of July, he's no longer allowed to light anything on fire without proper supervision from the East Lake Fire Department. The kids are safe."

"Speaking of explosions," Jay began. He reached up into one of the overhead cabinets and pulled down a handful of plates. "What the hell happened in here? It looks like a Hostess truck blew up."

"You could say that," Chris grinned. "We had a food fight…sort of."

Rosalind looked over at him and giggled.

Jay eyed them in confusion as he set a plate of eggs and toast in front of each of them.

Chris had gotten out of his chair to get everyone a beverage. When he turned back around, he stared at Jay in horror. He was sitting at the kitchen table. More importantly, he had his toast lying innocently _on_ the Fornication Station. Oh God…

"Uh, Jay, I wouldn't…"

"What?" Jay furrowed his brow as he picked up his tainted toast and took a hearty bite.

On second thought, what Jay didn't know wouldn't scar him for life.

Chris choked on a laugh as he strolled over to his pal and handed him a glass of orange juice. "Never mind. Enjoy your breakfast."

Rosalind's body was shaking as she made a failed attempt to conceal her laugher. Chris had an irremovable grin plastered across his face as he sat back down.

He exchanged looks Rosalind, and muttered, "November 8, 2009—the first time Jay ate off of a piece of furniture that we shamelessly defiled in the throws of passion."


End file.
